


The Other Woman Who Fell to Earth

by Flyorine



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Fluff, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2020-10-24 21:15:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20712647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flyorine/pseuds/Flyorine
Summary: PC Yasmin Khan has been daydreaming about her first day on the job since primary school. None of the scenarios she imagined included a break-in call, a hospital visit, and a charming stranger with very little sense of self-preservation... AU





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had a long flight yesterday (and every intention of working on the story I started posting on Tuesday), but this one-shot happened instead :-D. I'm not sure what it is exactly (or if I'm ever going to continue it), since I never write AU but I hope it's fun to read?

"Second-floor window has been smashed in, the call came in three minutes ago. I'm going for the main entrance. Jones and McIntyre, establish a perimeter around the building. Khan, take the back." dispatches PC Taylor, the oldest officer of the group that responded to the emergency call. 

With a mumbled complain, PC Yasmin Khan takes off towards the back of the science museum's main pavilion. She graduated from being probation barely a few hours ago, after two years of settling parking disputes and patrolling harmless public events in Sheffield. Starting her first day as a real police officer with a break-in call is a challenge, but a welcomed one. A mix of excitement and adrenaline bubbles in her chest, while she runs to cover her assigned entrance. 

Barging into an interior yard, she narrows her eyes against the flashes of light coming from the second floor of one of the buildings. A shrilling alarm tears the usually quiet atmosphere surrounding the museum at night, drawing an uncomfortable wince from Yaz. She approaches the source of the noise, eyes scanning for any sort of exits or places where a suspect could be hiding. 

Metallic stairs painted red by a mix of old age and rust appear to be the only way out, and she tentatively drops her palm against the handrail. The surface is cold in the early fall weather, and she cringes with the dust coloring her fingertips. Looking up, Yaz spots the broken window a couple of floors over her head and she begins her slow climb of the suspiciously squeaky steps. 

Once she reaches the second floor, she cups both hands around her face, pressing her nose against an intact part of the glass. She watches a few employees run along the walls, touring the exhibit as they yell instructions at each other - in what seems to be a poor attempt to catalogue the artifacts in the room - when PC Taylor comes running through the main door. The first man who notices her lets out a loud screech, pointing and reaching for his phone in panic. 

The next events happen in slow motion in Yaz's brain, but unfold too fast for her coworker to offer any help. Startled by the scream, she leaps backwards and feels her spine collide with the railing behind her. The rust-covered metal protests with a loud, high-pitched sound before giving away, leaving Yaz to free fall from the second floor. 

Covering her head with her arms, she realizes that the impact with the ground will probably involve a significant amount of damages. Yaz barely has time to spare a thought for her ever-worried family, before her back hits a surface that's much softer than she imagined. Her head bumps against the pavement, and she groans at the rattled shock flooding her brain.

"Ow." 

Yaz blinks, surprised by the foreign sound, before gasping when she understands how she escaped any major injury. Scrambling to her knees, she freezes when she’s hit by a wave of dizziness that turns her legs weak, sending her back to her previous position, sprawled over a stranger. 

"I'm so sorry." Forcing the words out of her nauseous mind takes every bit of Yaz's concentration. "Give me a minute and I'll stand up." 

"You really shouldn't be moving." The stranger objects, reasonably. "You hit your head pretty hard." 

"I'm squishing you." Yaz remarks, gesturing to the way her upper body is draped across the blond woman's stomach. 

"There are worse things in life than being squished by a pretty girl." She shrugs with the hint of a smirk, despite the painful throb echoing from her right foot to her knee. 

The casual flirting gets a snicker out of the police officer, taking her mind off the hazy blur slowing her thoughts. "Are you sure you didn't hit your head too?" 

Before the other woman can answer, a sudden chaos of rushed movements, loud voices and flashlights traveling through the yard interrupts their conversation. The combination forces Yaz to narrow her eyes in an attempt to save her brain from the overwhelming stimulation. 

Her efforts are useless, and she frowns when her vision tunnels to PC Taylor. The officer visibly shrinks against the contrasting light shining behind her back, her hurried walk in Yaz's direction seemingly slowing down. Before she can understand what's happening, the younger woman loses consciousness. 

***************

The first thing that catches Yaz's attention when the grip of medically-induced sleep loosens around her brain, is the dimmed neon light suspended over her bed. She blinks, and the background noises start to filter through her mind: feet hitting the tiled floor in the hallway, muted conversations discernible through the thin walls, and a long, exasperated sigh coming from her left side. 

Turning her head, she struggles to raise on her elbows to get a good look at the room, before the movement is cut short by a burst of dizziness that blurs the edge of her vision. 

"Argh." The police officer whispers, falling back against the mattress. 

"You're awake!" The overly chipper greetings draws a groan out of her chest, and the voice drops apologetically. "Sorry. Forgot about your head." 

Against her better judgement, Yaz cracks her eyes open and glances to her left. The blond woman who broke her fall earlier is staring back at her, hair sticking out in every direction and her right foot elevated on a lump of cover. "Are you all right?" She asks, voice still raspy with traces of sleep. 

"Fine, I'm great. Don't worry about me." The stranger's flustered reply comes after she swallows audibly. "Welcome to Hell." 

Yaz rubs the palms of her hands against her eyes, bringing the room into focus. It's a fairly ordinary hospital room, complete with a couple of beds, medical instruments and empty plastic chairs. "Hell is a hospital?"

"Oh, you know. Tomato, potato."

"That's not the saying." Yaz's chuckle turns into a wince, when the tremor shaking her shoulders sends a wave of pain through her head.

"Isn't it?" 

The blond's mock seriousness almost draws another bout of laughter out of the police officer, before she clamps her jaw shut. "Stop it." With a deep breath, she takes another look around. "What's so bad about this place?" 

"They have the worst doctor in the history of medical sci..."

A voice interrupts before she can complete her sentence. "Well, hello to you too, Fun Size." 

The other woman raises her hands in exasperation. "See for yourself, Yaz. Here's the doctor." 

Yaz's gaze flickers between the doctor filling the doorway - tall, white hair, with a strong Scottish brogue - and the stranger. "Doctor who?"

"Don't know, he won't tell me. And he keeps making jokes about my height." She blows off the hair falling in front of her eyes. "I'm not even that short." 

"Doctor Smith, if you must know." The man says, reaching into the inner pocket of his lab coat as he approaches Yaz's bed. "How's your head?" 

"Oi, why do you tell her and not me?" 

"Because you're annoying." The Scottish man answers, tuning the follow up protest out of his mind. "Don't move." He requests, sizing Yaz's chin between his index and thumb, before using a flashlight to examine her pupils. "Reactive. You've already improved since they brought you in. Headache? Nausea?"

The younger woman nods, blinking away the tearful reaction to his test and tilting her chin down to escape the blinding light. "What's wrong with my h..." 

"Mild concussion.” He interrupts sharply. “We're keeping you here for the night, but it's precautionary." 

"Did someone call my fam..."

"Someone named..." He cuts off again, trailing off to reach for the notepad suspended to Yaz's bed and scans through the scrawled notes. "Najia is supposed to pick you up tomorrow. I'll be working on Shorty's foot by then, but use the call button if your head gets worse. One of the nurses will come." Discarding the notepad, he clips the flashlight back into his white coat and leaves the room without another word. 

"See? The worst." The blond stranger points out from her left. 

"Well, his bedside manners do need work." Yaz shrugs, biting back a smile when she sees the other woman’s crossed arms and petulant frown. 

"I'd be a much better doctor than him." She fires back, scrunching her nose. 

The adorable expression forces a silent laugh out of the police officer, stirring up the fuzzy blur swirling in her brain. She groans, allowing her head to drop back against the pillow. "Are you sure? Because you keep making jokes while I can't laugh."

"Not my fault, I'm funny." 

"And modest." Yaz quips, glancing to her temporary flatmate. Between her messy hair, rumpled clothes and drawn out features, she looks like she belongs among the hospital patients. But the combination of playfully sparkling green eyes and sharp intelligence tinting the woman’s every word is drawing Yaz in. 

She clears her throat once she picks up on the faint flush coloring the stranger's cheeks, realizing that she's been caught staring. "How do you know my name?" 

"Your mates kept calling you, when you passed out." She shrugs. "Before they decided that calling the paramedics might be a better idea." 

Yaz nods, sliding her eyelids shut in an attempt to alleviate the pressure in her head. "It's a bit unfair, isn't it?" She says, distractedly. Opening one eye when no answer is forthcoming, she meets the stranger's confused gaze. "I don't know your name." 

"Joan Smith. Jo, for short." 

"Smith." Yaz repeats, with the tiniest snicker. "Maybe that doctor is your distant cousin." 

Jo's nose scrunches again at the suggestion, and Yaz bites back a smile. There's no way that childlike expression should be attractive on a grown up adult. Her concussion must be rattling her brain more than she noticed. "What's up with your foot?" 

"Broken." 

The one word answer lands heavily in Yaz's stomach, and she forces herself into a half sitting position, trying to face the other woman properly through bursts of nausea. "Are you all right? It's my fault, I'm so sorry." 

"You really shouldn't be moving that much." Jo frowns, in a gentle reminder. Yaz reluctantly agrees, falling back against the mattress with a long sigh. "Told you, don't worry about me. I've had much worse. Doctor Eyebrows will fix me up tomorrow, and I'll be good as new."

The dark haired woman nods again, the simmering guilt in her chest slowly fading into a concerned weight that falls on her shoulders. "If you say so." She can feel the tug of sleep gently knocking against her conscious thoughts, but a stubborn desire to enjoy the intriguing stranger's company for just a few more minutes is fighting back. "What were you doing in that museum? They're not open at night." 

"Oh, you know. Just a shortcut on my way home." Jo shrugs, aiming a grin towards Yaz. "Right place, right time, I guess." 

"For a broken foot?" The police officer wonders, through a yawn. 

"To catch you." Jo's smile turns softer, warmth flashing through her gaze, and Yaz has to forcefully stifle the urge to reach a hand into the crammed space between their beds. She's not sure how someone can take having her foot broken by a clumsy police officer so well, but Jo’s kindness is only heightening the magnetic pull she felt, when they first looked at each other. 

A surprisingly comfortable silence stretches across the room, until Yaz resigns herself to give up her fight against exhaustion. "I should sleep." 

Jo hums, already midway through slumber herself, and Yaz's eyes twinkle when an idea crosses her mind. Tucking a hand under her pillow, her last conscious thought is a reminder to text her mum in the morning, before she allows sleep to take her. 

***************

Jo's nose scrunches at the rush of sunlight hitting her closed eyelids. Sparing a yearning thought for the heavy curtains hung in her own bedroom, she reluctantly turns on her back and scans the hospital room swarm in mid-morning activity. A couple of nurses travel back and forth between the cupboard containing sheets, busy placing fresh covers on the unoccupied bed on her right. 

When Yaz's absence sinks in, her frown deepens and she chances a glance towards her injured foot. There's a brand new cast wrapped around her limb, from her ankle to the bottom of her heel, leaving only the tip of her toes to peek out in the cold air. "Time?" She asks, when one of the nurses drifts closer. 

"You're awake. Sorry love, I didn't notice." The woman regards her with compassion. "How's the pain?" 

Jo grimaces when the achy sensation traveling through her entire leg registers in her brain. "Fine." 

The nurse rolls her eyes, already reaching for a bottle in the pockets of her scrubs. "You're one of those patients, I see." She slides a couple of pills into her hand, offering them to the blond woman with a glass of water. Jo pulls a face but obliges, wincing when she swallows the painkillers. "It's a bit before noon. Oh, and your friend left you a little gift before going home." 

The blond twists her head, spotting the to-go cup placed on the bedside table with a smile. Sizing the drink, she’s surprised to find a paper towel tucked under the recipient. Her smile spreads into a grin when she catches sight of a phone number and a hastily scribbled message. 

_Phone me, if you need anything_ The last word is underlined twice, traces of ink mushed into the napkin. 

Muffling her grin into a sip of cold tea, she puts away the paper in the breast pocket of her blue polo shirt, her itching fingers searching for her phone. She types in the ten digits already burnt into her memory, before biting her lip in concentration. 

_You didn't even say goodbye, and the tea has gone cold_

Yaz springs off the couch when her phone chimes with a text notification, tongue peeking out from between her teeth when she notices the foreign number. She chances a playful reply. _Are you always grumpy in the morning?_

_Wouldn’t you like to know...”_

The teasing message brings a grin to Yaz's lips, freezing her thumbs over the keyboard in a second of hesitation. With a deep breath, she starts typing. _I'll have to buy you another tea then. You did sacrifice your foot for me._ Bouncing on the ball of her feet, she watches the familiar three dots pop up on her screen. 

_It’s a date!_

Yaz beams, wondering what’s the appropriate level of enthusiasm to show for a date with a woman she barely knows, when a second text appears. 

_Wait, it is a date, yeah? You weren’t just offering a friendly thank you cuppa?_

The dark haired woman blinks, and a third consecutive notification brightens her phone before she can settle on an answer. 

_Which, I’m also up for. I’m always up for tea. Tea is amazing._

Yaz’s grin turns dopey, charmed by the cracks in Jo’s seemingly smooth flirting skills. 

_All right, I’ll stop talking now. Sorry._

_It's a date._ The police officer's fingers fly over the keyboard, eager to ease Jo's awkward rambling. _Monday? I'm on bed rest for the weekend. _

_Pick a time and a place. I'll be there._

_I'll text you._ Yaz replies, sinking back into the comfortable couch and tucking the previously discarded blanket against her knees. _Take care of yourself._

***************

"Ace." The whispered word comes with a sloppy attempt at a fist pump, catching the attention of the nurse still tinkering around Jo's room. 

"Everything all right, love?" 

"Got a date." She yawns, fingers loosening around her phone with the effects of painkillers starting to take hold. Noticing her slurred speech, the nurse strides towards the bed and gently puts the device on the table. 

"How about you rest, for now?" The soft prompting earns the woman a scrunch of Jo's nose, her eyelids dropping against her better efforts. 

"She's _brilliant._" With another yawn, Jo's head slowly falls against the lumpy pillow. "And beautiful."

The nurse muffles a chuckle against the open palm of her hand, dimming the neon light before leaving her patient to recover. Jo's sleepy thoughts drift to the following Monday, filling her dreams with memories of warm brown eyes and breathtaking smiles.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what I'm doing with this (honestly, I just sit down to write and words happen. It's weird), so don't expect it to become a big story. It's probably going to turn into a series of one-shots all set in the same universe, if I continue!

Yaz shivers when raindrops dripping from the end of her hair slide to the side of her neck. She stops in front of the glass door, brushes the droplets away and adjusts the collar of her leather jacket in a poor attempt to subdue the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. 

Touching the faint scar still noticeable where her head hit the pavement a week earlier, she smooths a lock of thick dark hair over the mark. The majority of her concussion symptoms faded over the couple of days following the accident, leaving the weekend to drag by. 

Days were spent wrestling with her overactive imagination, her brain coming up with countless scenarios of how a simple coffee date could turn into disaster. Her anxiety was eventually tamed by a few messages sent by Jo - varying from tips about dealing with head injuries to random fun facts - that left Yaz grinning, if a bit confused. 

(Who knew there were more trees on Earth than stars in the galaxy?) 

The casual way Jo kept in touch was a surprise at first, completely different from anyone Yaz ever considered dating. She'd normally restrain communication to a bare exchange of technicalities - agreeing on a meeting place and time - and save tidbits of more personal information for the first date. Social skills were never her biggest strength, and it was a good way to avoid the awkwardness and lingering silence involved whenever two people get to know each other. 

Somehow, she doesn't think awkward silence is going to be a problem with Jo.

A fluttering sensation between her ribs interrupts her musings, leaving Yaz to shake her head at her own stalling thoughts. With a deep breath, she pushes the door of the little cafe she picked - an old favorite of hers, The Bus Stop - and scans the room to find her date. 

Her shoulders loosen in the familiar atmosphere, eyes flickering between the tables scattered along brick walls, the displayed baked goods behind a glass counter and the scent of freshly brewed coffee. 

Spotting Jo, she chuckles at the look of intense concentration on the woman's face as she delicately folds a paper towel in half, tongue peeking out from between her teeth. Yaz decides to leave her to work for a few more seconds, stepping up to the cashier who recognizes her with a warm smile. 

"Usual, Yaz?" 

"Two of the usual, please." 

The worker - an older, friendly man named Graham - grins. "Waiting for someone special?" 

Yaz glances towards Jo's table, distractedly noting that her attention is still glued to her folded napkin, as Graham's eyes twinkle in approval. "She's been here a while. Gave a little paper frog to the crying Williams' kid. The boy decided to make it fly, right into her face." 

"Really?"

"Hm." Graham nods, busy pouring boiling water in two mugs. "Then she made a second frog for herself, and a paper war happened. The Williams were grateful though, Rory has been crying a lot since they moved." 

"Sheffield is not that bad. Wait until school starts, he'll make friends."

"That's what I told them." Graham approves, handing over the tea. Yaz offers a note over the counter, frowning when the man shakes his head. "On the house. Just make sure to come back with your girlfriend." 

"It's just a first date." Yaz mumbles, with the hint of a grin. 

"Sure. Come back with your date then." He fires back, winking and turning to serve the next customer in line. 

Yaz clears her throat, shifting the bag she's carrying over her shoulder, before sizing one cup of tea in each hand. Making her way to the table chosen by Jo, she absentmindedly notices that it's only a few tables away from her usual spot. 

"Having fun?" The police officer asks, placing the tea on the wooden surface. 

"Yaz!" The anxious energy buzzing through the dark haired woman's head fades, with the genuine delight tingeing Jo's voice. "I'd get up, but..." She trails off, sending a disgruntled look towards the cast on her foot resting against the opposite chair. 

"Don't worry about it." The injured limb forces Yaz to sit directly on Jo's left side, and she drops the large bag she's carrying against the floor. The sound catches the blond's attention, hazel eyes snapping to the object. 

"What's that?" 

"Hi, Jo. It's nice to see you again." Yaz playfully quips, enjoying the faint flush that colors the other woman's cheeks while she answers.

"Sorry. But I made you a flower." She says, holding the paper towel folded in the shape of a rose between her thumb and index finger. "Don't I get points for that?" 

"I thought you were making frogs." Yaz remarks, biting her lip when Jo places the flower into her palm with a sheepish smile. "And throwing them at children." 

"He was _crying_, Yaz. Had to do something." She explains, glancing towards the cafe's employee. "Made a bit of a mess though. I should apologize." 

Yaz shakes her head. "Nah, forget it. Tea is on the house, and Graham hopes you’ll be back." 

"Ooh, tea. I love tea." 

"So you've said." Yaz slides one of the cups closer. "There you go."

Jo laces her fingers around the porcelain, giving a satisfied hum at the warmth traveling through her hands and leaving Yaz to wonder if she’s ever seen anyone so happy over a cup of tea. She stops pondering the question when the other woman grins, Yaz's brain stuttering to a pause in reaction, until she realizes that her own cup has gone untouched. 

A brief silence lingers while they sip the hot beverage. The police officer struggles to contain a smile as she watches Jo's eyes shift over the edge of her mug, her leg bouncing under the table. 

"Something bothering you?" Yaz asks, failing to hide her amusement.

"Can I ask about your bag now?" 

"Not big on patience, are you?" The police officer teases, leaning over to grab the object from the floor. 

"Patience is for wimps." Jo whispers, scrunching her nose. 

Yaz shakes her head, piling up three plastic bowls on the table. “Food. For you.” She drops the folded napkin on the floor, stretching down to tuck it safely into the front compartment of her bag, still speaking. “It's a thank you from my dad. Before you blame me, he threatened to disown me if I didn’t brin... Jo!”

Yaz’s warning is left unfinished as she sees the blond already digging through Hakim’s attempt at curry. The first bite seems harmless enough, until the plastic spoon freezes on its way back to the food, Jo gulping through her mouthful. Her chewing motion slowly comes to a stop, when her taste buds' protest reaches her brain. 

“Ow.”

“Graham?” Yaz raises her voice, thankful for the mostly empty cafe. “Do you have milk?”

“Wh...” The older man interrupts his throughout cleaning of the counter, when he notices the bowls on Yaz's table. He leans down and rummages through the reserve of milk cartons he keeps for children, throwing one to his favorite customer. “Your dad is cooking again? Did he made pakora?” 

Yaz fumbles with the carton, folding it open on her third attempt and offering the milk to a teary eyed Jo, before freezing at the last second. “You’re not allergic, are you? I swear I’m not trying to kill you.”

The question earns her a strangled chuckle, along with a vigorous shake of the blond’s head. Yaz watches Jo gulp the cold beverage in a matter of seconds, distractedly answering Graham’s question. “It was curry night yesterday.”

The older man winces, imagining Hakim and his inability to dose spices trying out a curry recipe. “Condolences.” He simply replies, shrugging after Yaz glares in his direction over her shoulder. 

“Breathe.” The police officer coaches, when Jo discards the empty carton and settles her elbows on the table, panting softly. 

Yaz shuffles forwards and rests a tentative hand on the other woman’s back. Seeing Jo leans into the contact in silent encouragement, she draws wide circles with the tips of her fingers, muffling a smile against the palm of her unoccupied hand. Minutes tick by, while the atmosphere shifts from frantic to comfortably quiet, until Jo recovers enough to speak.

“Does your da...” She stops with a dry cough, focusing on the soft touch on her back in contrast to the spicy heat that lingers on her tongue. “Does he work with the army? That curry would make a great weapon.”

“I love my dad, but he’s a cooking hazard. I was going to warn you.” Yaz snickers. “Wimps don’t burn their tongue on spicy food.”

“My tongue? My entire mouth is on fire. I might never taste anything ever again.” Jo replies, nose scrunched and eyelids fluttering to get rid of her residual tears. 

“Are you all right?” The genuine concern earns Yaz a playful gaze. 

“Is this how it’s going to be? You trying to kill me every time we meet?” Jo asks, with the hint of a smile.

“It’s not funny.” Yaz finally takes back her hand, hiding her face against her intertwined fingers. 

“It is though. Just a bit.” She counters, circling one of Yaz’s wrist with a gentle touch until the younger woman meets her gaze. “I’m still here, yeah?”

“It’s not like you could run away.” Yaz teases back, eyes flickering to the injured foot resting on a chair. 

Jo shakes her head at the trace of sincere worry in the police officer’s voice, despite her attempt to joke. “I wouldn’t. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, you're funny, and I’d really like to get to know you.” She pauses. "And you laugh at my jokes. Doesn't happen as often as you’d think."

Yaz blinks, stunned by the blunt honesty, and Jo’s eyes fall to the floor. “Sorry. Too much?”

“No!” The dark haired woman breathes out, too frazzled to filter her thoughts. “You... You’re the best person I’ve ever met.” She fumbles, clearing her throat once she realizes how bold the declaration sounds - she’s known the woman for _a week_ \- and scrambles to tame her own words. “Sort of.”

“Only sort of?” Jo repeats with a raised eyebrow. “Caught you when you fell from the second floor of a building. What do I have to do to be the best?”

“Be less smug.” Yaz quips, watching the blond's grin turn sheepish.

***************

"Do you live with your dad?" Jo wonders, once they've both recovered from the curry incident.

The plastic bowls are discarded, back in Yaz's bag that's tucked neatly under her chair. Their heads are bent together, hands settled on the table, close enough to brush every time the taller woman moves to punctuate her words (which happens a lot, notices Yaz). 

"My dad, my mum and my sister Sonya. She's a nightmare." 

"Sisters." Jo shakes her head. "I have one. We work together." 

"What do you do?" Yaz asks, surprised to see the other woman's eyes shift away, her fingers fiddling with a loose thread on her sleeve. 

"Oh, you know. Art stuff."

"You're an artist?" Yaz's eyes widen in surprise. 

"I.. A bit. Yeah." 

The police officer frowns. Jo doesn't seem like the type of person to be shy about her work, but the stark contrast between her previous rambling and the tight smile now frozen on her lips convinces Yaz to move on.

"Maybe you can show me sometimes." She shrugs, dropping the subject. "What's the rest of your family like? Do you get along?" 

"I don't really..." Jo's shoulders loosen at the new line of questioning. "I've lost them, a long time ago. It's just me and my sister." 

"I'm so sorry." Yaz offers, earnestly. Her frown deepening, she covers the blond's fingers with her own and squeezes gently. 

"It's not your fault." Jo leans back into her chair, turning her hand to catch Yaz's fingers. 

"I shouldn't be asking ab..." 

Jo shakes her head, interrupting. "Questions are good. You can ask me anything." Pausing to consider her own words, she shrugs. "Can't always promise an answer though." 

"That's fair." Yaz acknowledges, distractedly rubbing her thumb against Jo's knuckles as she ponders the new information. "Wait, who's helping you with your foot? Your sister?" 

"Nobody." Jo replies, casually. "I can do everything except cook... And take showers. It's been a long time since I've taken so many baths." 

"You can't cook." Yaz repeats, frowning again. 

"Nope. Can't stand on my leg for too long without using crutches. I don't know if you've tried using a knife on crutches, but I wouldn't recomm..."

"Jo." Yaz interrupts sternly, the name laced with fond exasperation. "Did you read the note I left you at the hospital, or did you just get my phone number?"

"'Course I read it!" Jo blurts out, blinking. She wouldn't mind hearing Yaz say her name like that again. 

"That's exactly what I meant with "Call me if you need anything." I broke your foot, making sure you don't starve is the least I can do."

The blond reaches for her forgotten phone with her free hand. "Food delivery apps. Love it, you can get any restaurant in Sheffield to deliver to you." 

"You can't survive on takeaways for six to eight weeks." Yaz points out, with an unimpressed raised eyebrow. 

"I really like takeaways." The older woman's proud smile fades when Yaz offers a silent stare as only reply. "Fine. It's getting old, that's why I jumped on your dad's curry like that." Jo concedes, sighing. 

Yaz bites her lip, suddenly deep in thoughts. “Do you have plans Thursday night?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Do you mind if I come over?”

“To my flat?” Jo blinks. 

“Yeah. I could make food fo...”

“Yes.” She cuts off, struggling to contain a slowly spreading grin. “Thanks. Cooking with Yaz, amazing.”

Relieved to see her idea well received, the younger woman shakes her head with a fond chuckle. “You’re weird.”

“You like it.” Jo shrugs. “Have to, you just planned another date.”

“I guess I did." Yaz confirms, matching her smile. "Are you complaining?” 

“About spending time with you? Never.” Jo winks, showing a hint of the shameless flirting that caught Yaz’s attention the night they met. 

“All right, smooth talker. It’s time for hard hitting questions." Leaning back into her chair, Yaz gauges the curious hazel eyes peering back at her. "If you had a superpower, what would it be?"

"Time travel." The blond fires back with a smirk. "It was an easy one. You can only eat one food for the rest of your life. What do you pick?"

The next hour is spent throwing out questions and exchanging stories, fingers securely intertwined over the table. 

***************

When Yaz sinks into her bed that night, three text notifications are waiting for her, all from Jo, and all spread out over the last few hours. 

_Forgot to ask, you don't cook like your dad, right?_

_Yaz?_

_Hope you weren’t kidnapped on the way home. _

_Sorry._ Yaz starts typing with a yawn. _Mum insisted on having a family night. No phones allowed. I didn’t think Sonya was going to live through it. _

She presses send, thumbs flying before she even gets a reply. _What if I do cook like my dad?_

Surprised when three dots immediately pop on her screen, Yaz nestles her cheek against her pillow. 

_It's fine, I'll just get milk delivered before Thursday. _

_And my tea was cold again when you left. I'm blaming you._

Yaz smiles, shaking her head. _I must be too good at conversation, you got distracted. _

_You were right. Smugness is not attractive._

_Shut up._ With another yawn, Yaz glances at the time and types again. _I have to be up early for work, I’m going back tomorrow._

_Already?_ She doesn’t need to see Jo to detect the undercurrent of concern in the single word. 

_I'll do part time desk duty. But my job is not usually dangerous, you know._

Yaz watches the typing dots appear and vanish a few times, eyelids dropping as she waits for Jo to settle on a reply. When she does, the dark haired woman’s heart melts a little. 

_Just be safe. _

_Always. Good night Jo._

_Good night._

Sinking deeper against the mattress, Yaz discards the phone and tugs the cover further up against her chin. She’d usually twist and turn, worried over her fast growing crush. 

With a dopey grin, she remembers the mix of easy, open affection and warmth shining through Jo’s eyes earlier. The bursting anxiety in her chest fades, and Yaz closes her eyes, easily giving into the tempting pull of slumber. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :-D


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick reminder that I don't know what I'm doing. I hope you enjoy part 3 :-D

Shifting the grocery bag she's carrying to her left hand, Yaz pushes against the black metallic gate. 

She makes her way from the garden to the three steps of the outside stairs, knocking against a blue door with the hint of a smile. 

The last three days went by tormentingly slow. Desk duty at work is even worse than the harmless calls she was assigned as a probationer, and her coworkers mostly returned to the careful, walking-on-eggshells attitude they had when she was first hired. 

Yaz knows she’ll have to remind them that she's _good_ at the job, once she gets medical clearance. 

The prospect is disheartening, leaving her to wonder if she'll have to prove herself every time an intervention on the field goes wrong. 

Between the trouble at work and her family worrying over her safety, - her mum in particular insists on driving Yaz to the police station every day, and she doesn't have the heart to refuse - the reminder of her second date with Jo is the only event that brightens her week. 

The trepidation of a first date faded into a quieter sense of excitement, a welcomed change for the police officer. 

With the nervous flutter in her stomach somewhat settled, her day to day life is much easier than last week - though Yaz still get distracted whenever her phone chimes with the notification of a new text message - when she was barely able to focus on anything other than her anxiety. 

"Hello!" Yaz jumps, snapped out of her thoughts to find Jo leaning against the doorway with a dopey grin. "Want me to come back when you're done thinking? You did just knock." 

There's an excited twinkle lighting up her eyes that reflects Yaz's fresh musings. She moves to the threshold, pausing next to Jo in a moment of frozen hesitation. 

When the blond offers a curious glance, Yaz drops a quick peck against her cheek. "Hi, Jo."

Satisfied with the other woman's raising flush, she sidesteps to find herself in the middle of a scarcely decorated living room. 

Eyes traveling across the space, she takes in the empty shelves lining up the walls, a few scattered books, a purple sofa and its matching cushion placed on the ground, right next to a coffee table. Yaz tilts her head, regarding the blue metallic bowl tucked under the furniture curiously. 

"Do you have a dog?" 

"Ah, yes." Jo confirms, glancing through the room. "I adopted her from a shelter when I moved to Sheffield. Don't know where she is, she doesn't like people muc..." 

A clicking noise growing louder interrupts her explanation, until a furry head peeks in from the hallway. 

The dog's intelligent gaze seems to be gauging Yaz, who forces herself to stay still while she admires the small golden retriever from a distance. 

When the animal slowly crawls closer to inspect the grocery bag laying at her feet, Yaz crouches at her level under Jo's stunned gaze. 

"Hello." She whispers. The dog bumps her head against Yaz's offered hand, stepping on her foot until the human rubs gently between her ears. "What's your name?" 

"Idris." Jo responds, intrigued by the puppy's easy acceptance of a stranger, in what she knows Idris considers her own house. 

The dog barks, glancing up at the blond when she catches her name. "Of course, you've decided to make me look like an idiot."

Yaz chuckles, busy threading her fingers through pale, rich fur. "You wouldn't do that, would you sweet girl?" 

When she takes her hand away, a paw insistently thumps against her arm, drawing a chuckle from the dark haired woman.

Shifting her weight to her healthy foot, Jo manages to sit on the ground. She watches quietly while Yaz keeps petting Idris, earning soft noises of approval from the puppy.

"I swear, she growls every time I get something delivered." Jo’s left hand finds the dog's jaw, scratching until Idris shuffles away in favor of Yaz's touch. "Really, mate?" 

The police officer muffles a burst of laughter against her unoccupied palm when she meets Jo's disgruntled gaze. "Sorry. I think I'm her favorite now." 

"Can I call you when she decides three in the morning is the perfect time for a walk?" Jo quips, wincing when Idris jumps up happily and barks in her ear. "You're too clever for you own good. How about the garden for now? You’ve just had a walk." 

The puppy freezes, tilting her head and bumping her nose against Jo's cheek. "That's a yes? Garden?" 

When Idris moves and starts scratching against the door with a low whine, Jo turns to Yaz. "Can you let her out? Getting up always takes me a while."

Nodding, the younger woman carefully steps around Idris to allow her outside. She shifts her attention back to Jo, who’s bringing her injured foot to the side of her body while balancing her weight on her opposite leg, as she clutches the couch's arm. "Can I help?" 

“I’m fine, no need t...” The end of her sentence is lost when Jo’s grip on the purple material slips, sending her back to the floor before Yaz can move. “Ow.”

Kneeling, the police officer offers a hand, eyes playfully twinkling. “Can I help now? I don't want to be blamed if you hurt yourself again.”

***************

Once Jo is safely upright, Yaz leans down to retrieve her grocery bag. “Kitchen?”

“On your left. What are you making?” 

Strolling through the doorway on her left, Yaz finds a surprisingly well equipped kitchen. The furniture is all shiny metal and dark counters, giving the room a cozy, modern look. 

“This is nice.” She remarks, dropping the food on an island that takes up the middle of the room. Jo follows in her steps, hopping around with a hand resting on the wall.

“Sit.” Yaz says, pointedly looking at a stool tucked under the breakfast bar. “You’re going to help.”

The dark haired woman is surprised by the happy smile thrown her way, as Jo amiably settles on the seat. “Love helping. What are we cooking?”

“Spaghetti. I thought we’d start with something that can’t go wrong, since you’re... Accident prone.”

Jo’s nose scrunches at the accusation. “I’m not clumsy.”

“Whatever you say. Pans?” 

“Behind you, the second cupboard.” 

Finding a suitable recipient for her recipe, Yaz turns to the stove and fiddles with a switch until heat comes on. 

Turning back to the bag, she lines up the necessary ingredients on the counter, under Jo's interested gaze.

“You do know I have food here, right? Didn’t need to buy everything.” 

The police officer freezes in her motions, drawing a small frown out of Jo. 

“I’m Muslim. We have some rules about food prep...” Yaz interrupts herself with a sharp intake of breath, seemingly gathering courage to look back at the blond. 

“That’s not... A problem? Is it?” She asks tentatively, watching Jo’s features smooth as she relaxes. 

“Yes. I can never speak to you again.” Jo deadpans, frowning when the teasing is lost on Yaz, brown eyes going wide and white knuckled hands clutching the edge of the counter. 

“Jokes.” The taller woman adds immediately, wobbling her way to Yaz. 

Grazing her forearm, she frowns when she meets a worried gaze. “A very bad one, sorry. I don’t care about your religion.” 

When the words replay through her mind, the lines between Jo’s eyebrows deepens. “That sounded much better in my head. Of course it’s not a problem. I’m a little clueless about this stuff though, so get ready for loads of questions.” 

Yaz swallows audibly, the tension in her shoulders fading with the blond’s reply. 

“Might be weird questions too, sorry. And hey, maybe it’s you who’s going to have a problem with my beliefs.”

“Why? What do you believe in?” Yaz prompts, as the storm of emotions knotting her stomach settles, slowly. 

“Mostly concepts. Love, hope, humanity. I’m not a fan of proper religions, too many rules.” She says, eyes widening again when her brain catches up. “Not yours though. I really don’t mind your rules.”

Yaz offers a small smile, charmed by the explanation and by the earnestness in Jo’s voice. Her heart is still racing against her rib cage, the leftover effect of painful memories resurfacing. 

The apologetic gaze sent her way loosens the grip of irrational fear on Yaz’s brain, and she raises a tentative hand. 

“Come here.”

Jo grins, sauntering closer until she can wrap her arms around Yaz’s waist. It’s the first time they hug, and the younger woman smiles against a nearby shoulder when she’s pleasantly reminded of their height difference. Her own arms hook around Jo's back, squeezing with the warmth filling her chest. 

“Jo?”

“Hm?” 

“I really like you.” There’s no double meaning in Yaz’s words, - it's much too soon to discuss any sort of deeper feelings - a simple declaration of someone happy to meet a kindred spirit. 

"Me too." She pauses, allowing a few seconds to tick by. "Got that when you said I was the best person you've met though." 

The ghosting smirk that comes with the last part is lost over the police officer's head, but the words still earn Jo a friendly roll of Yaz's eyes. 

"Shut up, before I change my mind." Teasingly shoving Jo's shoulders, Yaz directs her back to the breakfast bar. "Now, can I trust you with a knife?"

***************

It turns out that Jo can, in fact, be trusted with a knife, and she makes quick work of her vegetable cutting duties. 

When a mix of neatly chopped carrots and onions is gathered on a corner of her cutting board, she hobbles her way to Yaz who's standing in front of the stove, focused on the sizzling noise coming from the pan. 

Dropping her board on the counter, Jo pauses to look over the other woman's shoulder, attention caught by the spicy meat. "Looks good."

The words snap Yaz’s concentration, startling her a little. “Are you done already?” Frown deepening, she turns. “You shouldn’t be standing on your foot.”

“I want to see what you’re doing.” Jo responds, pursing her lips as she looks around for a nearby seat, before settling on the kitchen counter next to the oven. 

With a jump, she perches upon the surface and offers a sheepish grin as only reply to Yaz’s head shake. 

“You’re a child.”

“Trying to learn, Yaz. Stop distracting me. What’s next?”

“Your part.” She answers, reaching for the cutting board and slowly adding the food to her pan. "Mix with the grounded meat and the rest of the sauce..." 

Trailing off, Yaz grasps the small bottle left on the oven and gives a good shake over the simmering vegetables. "A bit more spice, and you're done." 

"It's ready?" Jo asks, dipping a finger into the sauce.

"No, it's not ready." Yaz grips her wrist, stepping in front of the other woman. "Think you can wait ten more minutes?" 

Bending her head to touch the digit to her mouth, Jo licks the traces of sauce. "I don't know, seems ready to me." She smacks her lips together, with a noise of approval. "This is amazing." 

Yaz can't quite contain an amused smile, dimming the effects of her best police officer stare. "I promise it's better when the meat is cooked, and there's no risk of food poisoning." 

Jo scrunches her nose, and Yaz's expression turns into a full grin. She tilts her head, trying to remember the last time someone made her smile as often as Jo - frowning a little when she can't come up with anyone. 

Before she can dwell on the thought, knees hook around her hips, dragging her closer to the counter until she's standing between the blond's legs. 

The sudden proximity allows Jo to catch tiny golden flecks sparkling in warm brown eyes, and she gulps when she notices her gaze flickering to her mouth. Yaz’s tempting warm breath against her lips is drawing her in, but she freezes at the last moment, like a roller coaster tethering on the brink of a fall. 

Seconds tick by while they stare at each other, until Yaz's voice cuts through the tension, a touch deeper than usual. "Jo?" 

She clears her throat. "Yes?" 

"I..." Yaz hesitates. "Is it all right if I..." 

Jo shuffles closer to the edge, until she can rest her forehead against the younger woman's, leaving the smallest gap between them as her hands shift to the back of her neck, fingers lacing through thick dark hair. 

Yaz moves with the shiver traveling through her spine, tilting her head to find searching lips. 

The kiss is tentative, a fleeting contact that's enough to send both women's heart racing as Yaz shifts back to get a proper look at Jo. 

"That's what I was trying to ask." Yaz feels more than she hears an answering breathless chuckle, her fingers clutched into the back of the blond's shirt. 

Hands finding purchase against the thighs still holding her close, Yaz distractedly follows the seam on the side of Jo's trousers. "Do you reckon we could do that again?" 

"_Yes._" The eager reply comes with a more confident kiss, Jo's usual energy seeping through her movement.

She trails her tongue along Yaz's bottom lip, humming when the palms warming the skin over her knees slip higher, finding the small of her back. 

Tilting her head to the side, Jo's lips map the other woman's jawline, muffling a smile in the crook of her neck when the fingers clinched into her shirt squeezes her closer.

She shifts her teasing touch lower, nibbling softly against her throat while Yaz loses all sense of time, until her phone beeps quietly. 

Blinking, she reaches for the object and swipes off the notification, stepping away from Jo despite the woman's protest. 

"Food." Yaz whispers, winded. Her legs feel weak when she walks closer to the stove, switching the pan to the wooden counter, before turning back to the blond. 

A charged silence lingers as they both struggle to find their composure through thundering heartbeats and ragged breathing. 

"Best ten minutes _ever_." Jo breaks the still moment first, her voice raspy.

Yaz hums in agreement, finding a second pan that she fills with cold water. "Glad you think so. Because unless you want to eat spoonfuls of tomato sauce..." 

Trailing off, she places the object on the stove. "Which I wouldn't put past you, by the way." The playful remark earns Yaz a bashful grin. "We have fifteen more minutes until the noodles are ready." 

Jo’s smile turns into a smirk when she moves to thread her fingers through Yaz's belt loops, tugging gently. "That's a long time. Might get bored." 

Yaz's arms curve around Jo's shoulders, standing on her tiptoes to press their matching grins together briefly. When the older woman's thumb slides from the corner of her mouth to her chin, Yaz ducks her head this time. 

"'Nope." She objects. "It's my turn." Nuzzling into the curve of Jo’s neck, Yaz grazes the warm skin there with a satisfied smile, feeling her squirm at the light touch.

Minutes tick by, until hands shoot up to clutch at the back of Yaz's head, tangling into messy hair when she scraps her teeth along the column of Jo's throat. The quiet gasp the action draws from the blond is addicting, forcing Yaz to take the smallest step back as she inhales sharply.

Jo's loose hold on her hips keeps them close, as she tilts her chin up and rests their foreheads together. 

"Hope that wasn't boring." Yaz quips, panting softly. 

"Amazing." Jo breathes out, bringing the younger woman's palm to her lips. 

Touched by the unexpected tender gesture, Yaz only manages to gather her thoughts when the timer on her phone goes off again. 

"All right, I'm hungry." She turns to the side, rolling her eyes when she catches a glimpse of Jo's smirk. "For food. Come on, you set the table and I'll get the pasta." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much for all the kudos and feedbacks :-D


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is more an epilogue than a proper part 4 (See the end note for more details). Thanks to everyone reading/leaving kudos or comments!

"Go away." Jo's words are mumbled against her pillow as she tries to yank the cover over her head. 

Idris' added weight insures the blanket doesn't budge, and she lets out an exasperated sigh. "How many walks do you need in one day? Are you training for the Olymp... Oof." 

The golden retriever jumps on her chest, before picking up her frantic pacing on the floor, around the bed. Jo frowns at the curious behavior, trailing a calming hand down the dog's back. "All right, what's wrong? That's odd, even for you." 

Idris turns and gently sizes the bottom of Jo's t-shirt between her teeth, tugging. "I'm up, just wai..." 

She scrambles to the ground, careful to keep her injured foot from hitting the floor too hard. "I'm hurt, you're supposed to be nice to m..." The puppy loses patience, practically dragging her owner by the blue material still held in her jaw. 

Jo barely has time to close the bedroom's door behind her, before she finds herself standing in the living room. Smiling reflexively when she notices Yaz laying on her sofa, - she decided to stay over when the movie they watched ended late - Jo scans the rest of the room to track down what disturbed Idris. 

About to open the window, Jo’s attention is forced back to the sleeping woman by a whimper. Yaz mumbles indiscernible words, turning on her side to bury her face into purple material. 

The dimmed light filtering through the glass allows Jo to get a glimpse of tears on her cheeks, and she carefully makes her way to the couch, sitting on the ground before calling out the police officer's name. 

***************

A voice at the edge of her conscious thoughts shakes off the nightmare’s grip on Yaz’s mind. Blinking away the remains of water clinging to her eyelashes, she finds a concerned hazel gaze staring back at her. 

“Jo?” Confused, Yaz glances to the old fashioned clock hung on the wall. 2 am. “What..." She trails off when the echoes of the dream she escaped flood her brain. "Did I wake you?” 

“Idris, not me. She was worried.” 

Sighing, Yaz covers her face with her hands. “I’m sorry. It’s been a while since I've..." She stumbles, rubbing her palms against her eyes. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Yaz pauses her poor attempt to apologize, taking in the genuine worry coloring Jo’s voice. The green-brown compassion regarding her tugs at her heart, drawing up feelings and words buried deep inside her head. 

Forcefully stifling down the instinct, Yaz declines. “I’m fine, you can go back to sleep.” She says, frozen by a burst of nerves. 

Jo shuffles on the floor, biting her lip. She could have sworn Yaz wanted to talk, before the obvious upset on her features gave way to an unconvincing smile. 

“If you’re sure...” Pausing, she distractedly notices the blanket laying on the floor. “Nightmares can be pretty bad though. You know where to find me, if you ever want to talk about it. Or about something else. Anything, really. I love talking, I’m sure you’ve noticed...” She clears her throat when she catches her own rambling. “Sorry.”

The awkward eagerness in Jo’s voice chips away at the fear trapping Yaz into silence, coaxing words out of her mouth. “You’ll think it’s silly.”

“Never.” Emerald eyes widen, as she shakes her head. “I once had a nightmare about an angry potato chasing me down the street. Now that... _That_ is silly.”

Yaz breathes out a chuckle. “A potato?”

“Wearing a spacesuit. It had tiny legs, and it was running after me.” 

Sniffling, the dark haired woman can’t hold back a genuine laugh. “You’re making that up.”

“Swear I’m not. Pinky promise.” 

The police officer grips back the offered pinky, holding on until their fingers tangle and fall together on the couch. She's blown away by how quickly Jo managed to calm her down. 

“I just want to help, Yaz.” The blond whispers.

Swallowing loudly, the police officer lets out another long sigh as she teeters on the edge of a fall into the soft affection looking back at her. 

Before she can make a decision, the now familiar sound of pitter-patter against wooden floor captures her attention. 

Idris makes her way further into the room, plopping down on Jo’s legs that are stretched out along the sofa’s length.

“Well, hello to you too. Don’t worry, we weren’t having a serious conversation.” The dog ignores her voice, nudging her head against Jo’s chest until she starts scratching her ears. “Can’t you live ten minutes without being the center of attention?”

“Don’t be rude.” Yaz chimes in. “She’s just worried.”

As if she can understand the meaning of the words, Idris shuffles closer. “See?” Yaz reaches out and joins the petting of the golden retriever. “It’s all right, sweet girl. I’m fine now.” 

Sensing Yaz’s easy bond with the dog, Jo moves to lean back on her palms. “Idris, up.”

The puppy’s ears perk, her tails wagging as she jumps to curl up in the space left empty on the couch, cradled between Yaz's tucked up knees and chin. 

The warm presence against her front brings water to dark brown eyes, as she buries her nose into pale fur. She breathes out a shaky sigh when Jo's fingers ghost along her cheeks, brushing away the first traces of tears.

"Trust me?" The whisper brings Yaz's attention back to Jo, while she considers the question. The answer is not hard to find, not when the woman’s soft eyes overflow with tender affection. 

"Yeah." 

Jo shifts her hand to Yaz's shoulder, waiting until Idris' tracks the movement to tap the pajama-covered skin twice. The puppy's reaction is instant, her front paws moving on either side of Yaz's neck, nose digging into the side of her head.

"Is that... A hug?" Jo's hummed approval only widens the police officer's grin. "She's hugging me."

"Hug back and she'll let go." 

Carefully returning the embrace, Yaz squeezes gently until she feels Idris go back to her initial position, cradled against her chest. Jo's hand finds the dog's head again, scratching under her jaw. "Good girl. You're so smart." 

Minutes tick by while they both comb through soft fur, Idris practically purring at the combined attention. Yaz feels the last remains of restlessness fade from her mind, air flowing easily into her lungs again. Jo seems to sense the change, and she looks up, eyes filled with a new playful twinkle.

"Yaz?" 

"Hm?" 

"Think there's room for one more?" 

Glancing back over her shoulder, Yaz takes in the cramped space left on the sofa. "I don't know. It's a tight fit, we'll have to cuddle." She answers, tone colored with mock-seriousness. 

"Sacrifices must be made." 

Yaz snickers, pushing against the blond's shoulder. "Shut up and get on that couch." 

"Are you always that bossy?" Jo wonders, shuffling her weight to her healthy leg to stand. "I feel like I should be warned ab..." She trails off when Yaz grips into the old t-shirt she's wearing, yanking her forwards until she stumbles into plushy cushions. 

***************

Between the narrow space, Jo's cast and Idris' presence, it takes a few minutes of adjustments before they find a comfortable position. The golden retriever eventually loses patience with all the jarring movements, jumping off the furniture to lay under the coffee table. 

"Thanks. More room for me." Jo says, raising on her elbow to peer at the dog from behind Yaz. 

The police officer chuckles, twisting her head back at the same time Jo glances down. They're nose to nose for a moment, before she clears her throat. "Kiss me?" 

Green-brown eyes soften, as she dips her head and presses their smiles together. Inhaling sharply, Yaz struggles to adjust to how different it feels, compared to the electric kisses they shared earlier. 

Jo's touch is more certain, and the previous teasing, fleeting movements of her lips gave way to a more solid contact that anchors a thankful Yaz to the present. The state of breathless amazement she's in once they separate is the same though, and Jo grins when she catches a twin sparkle of appreciation in the other woman's eyes. 

Silence lingers while a pair of chaotic heartbeats settle into their regular rhythm, until Yaz blows out a long, noisy breath and shifts on the sofa. 

"Yaz?" Jo prompts, concerned. 

"I was fourteen when I went to my first party. It was for this girl's - Izzy's - birthday. I had no idea she would invite me, we were just in the same study group. Well, it turned out that most of our class was invited too." Yaz gulps, thoughts drifting back to her early teenage years. 

"God, I was so excited. Izzy was new in our school, and she was funny, and smart, and beautiful. Being invited to her birthday felt like I just won some sort of prize." 

"You fancied her." Jo theorizes, and Yaz nods distractedly. 

"Yeah. I see that now, but I had no idea back then." She sighs, eyes looking straight ahead to the light grey wall. Laying on her side, she can feel Jo's presence warming her back even if they're not properly touching. It's comforting, without being overbearing, and Yaz spares - another - grateful thought for the woman's subtle support. 

"Anyway, I went to her house, talked mostly with the girls on my sports teams, it was nice. Until everyone decided to play drinking games. I don't drink, I can't." Yaz pauses to organize the disjointed memories flooding her brain. 

"The rest is very typical. Someone dared Izzy to kiss a girl, I was the closest one, and we ended up snogging in the middle of the room. Except..." Her voice falters on the last word, and she closes her fists. The sensation of nails digging into her palms - her poor attempt to stay grounded - stings, before a voice gently pulls her back to the present. 

"Can I touch you?" The question is soft, breaking the grasp of past memories on Yaz's mind. "It's all right if you want some space, I was trying to... I just..." Jo sighs, clumsily letting the sentence go unfinished in the space between them. When Yaz abruptly turns to face her, burying her head against Jo's shoulder, the words she was desperately scrambling for returns. "I don't like seeing you hurt." The blond completes, one hand stroking along Yaz's spine in small circles, while the other cups the back of her head. 

The younger woman soaks in every bit of warm comfort, allowing Jo's presence to soothe the turmoil of emotions awakened by her nightmare.

"When she realized I hadn't been drinking, Izzy started teasing me. Saying I fancied her, that I planned for that kiss to happen. That I enjoyed it." Yaz pauses again, voice turned wistful for a second. "She wasn't even wrong. I did enjoy it. I think that's what hurt the most."

"You have nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing, Yaz. You know that, yeah?" Jo interrupts, unable to completely tame the flare of burning anger running through her head. 

"Yeah." The dark haired woman musters a smile, pressing her lips to the soft skin where Jo's neck meets her shoulders. "I wasn't even ashamed on the day of the party. A bit embarrassed, especially when everyone joined in on Izzy's teasing. I figured it would be forgotten by Monday." 

Inhaling sharply, Yaz continues. "I was wrong. It went on until summer vacations. Izzy started it, but then it spread to everyone. People I'd never even talked to would come up to me, call me names or make sick jokes." With a deepening frown, she remembers the worst school year of her life. "You know how cruel teenagers can be. I lost it one day, fought Izzy of all people. My parents were called, I had to tell them everything, and they put me in another school the year after."

Yaz forces a chuckle, a small, strangled sound. "And that's my story. I never saw her again, but I still have nightmares about that year sometimes. It's rare, mostly when I'm shattered after a long day of work." 

"Or when someone you like makes an insensitive joke about your religion." Yaz's body tensing against her own is all the confirmation Jo needs. "I'm very sorry." She breathes out. "I didn't know, I shou..." 

"Hey, it's fine. I knew you didn't mean it, it just surprised me. And yeah, it brought back some bad memories." Yaz sighs. "But you had no way to know, okay?" 

"Yeah, fine." Jo confirms, resting their foreheads together with a small smile. "Feel better?" 

Yaz ponders the question, surprised to find a new, blunt edge to her memory of Izzy's relentless bullying. "Yes." She returns the smile, nuzzling against Jo's cheek. "I think I do." 

***************

“Jo?”

Yaz breaks the silence that's been stretching around the room since they fell back into a more comfortable position, spooning on the narrow sofa. 

“Hm?”

The answering hum vibrates into the space behind Yaz's ear, colored with content sleepiness that holds her question back, until Jo prompts. 

“What is it?”

“Why is Idris trained to hug?” The arm laying across Yaz’s stomach tenses, reflexively bringing them closer. 

“Picked up on that, didn’t you?” Jo’s voice falters on the last word, breaking her poor attempt to sound casual. 

“It’s not a common trick to teach dogs.” She frowns, shifting to her back in slow, careful movements. 

The new position forces Jo to move up against the backrest, half raised on her elbow while Yaz cups her cheek with one hand. “That’s what you get for dating a police officer.”

“Should have thought about that.” Jo scrunches her nose, features smoothing when a thumb rubs gently under her eye. 

With a sharp intake of breath, she lets her gaze drop to a loose thread on the cushion. “Moving to Sheffield was hard. I was very..." Jo pauses, swallowing through the flow of memories that turns the words in her throat sticky. "Sad. Didn't have many friends either. I struggled for months, before passing by an animal shelter one night. I don't know why, but I went inside. That’s where I found Idris." 

Dropping her forehead against Yaz’s collarbone, Jo continues. "The workers told me she'd been there for about a year. She was almost seven at the time - eight now - and people are not interested in adopting older pets. But me..." She shakes her head, glancing wistfully at the golden retriever observing the conversation from the floor. "Can't explain it. I just knew I had to take her home." 

A heavy breath sigh the side of Yaz's neck, and she lays a hand on Jo's forearm that's resting above her hips. "I never trained Idris to hug. She just did it one night, and saw my reaction." 

“Why did you move?” The dark haired woman wonders, one hand playing with the end of short blond hair.

“I lost someone.”

“Your family?” Yaz chances, tentatively. 

"No, it's..." Jo purses her lips, gauging how much of her heavy backstory she wants to share in the middle of the night. "Erm... Someone else. Lost a lot of people, Yaz." 

When green-brown eyes drift to the floor, glazed over and darkened by heartache, the police officer backtracks. “Jo.” She waits until the other woman raises her head. “You don’t have to tell me now, just when...” 

Yaz is abruptly interrupted by Idris, who jumps back on the sofa until she's squeezed between both humans, tucking her head against Jo’s hip with a low whine. 

“Sorry, she’s very...” The blond trails off, exchanging a charged look with the puppy, before scratching Idris' head. “In tune with my feelings.” 

Yaz’s gaze flickers between the two. “So, what she’s trying to tell me...” She starts, with a slow grin. “Is that you need a hug too.”

Before she realizes what’s happening, Jo finds herself laying on her back, arms full of an overexcited golden retriever as Yaz hooks her own around her stomach. “Idris thinks we’re wrestling now.” She sighs playfully, barely ducking out of the way of a fluffy tail. 

“Can’t you do something?” Yaz complains when a paw hits her squarely on the jaw. 

“Ow.” Jo protests, using the arm that’s not holding onto Yaz to fight Idris’ repeated attempts to nibble her face. 

“Settle.” When her command is ignored, Jo is left trying to push the dog off the sofa, as gently as possible... Until Yaz snaps her fingers. 

“Idris, settle.”

The noise catches the animal’s attention, her eyes shifting to Yaz questioningly. “Settle.” She repeats. 

Blinking lazily, Idris makes her way to the other end of the sofa, curling up on Yaz’s feet, her head resting on Jo’s knees. 

“How did you do that?” The barely hidden awe in the blond’s voice sends a raising flush to Yaz’s cheeks. 

“Police training. They teach you how to make people listen to you.” She quips, with a smile. 

“Should have done that.” Jo answers playfully, until Yaz remembers their interrupted discussion. 

“What I was saying, is that whenever you’re ready to talk, I’m a pretty good listener. It doesn’t have to be tonight, we have time.” 

"Yeah." The small hint at a long term future is not lost on Jo, as she muffles an approving yawn. "We do. Thank you."

Yaz tucks stray hair behind the other woman's ear, fingers ghosting along the soft skin until she traces a defined jawline, leaving Jo leaning into the touch. 

"How about sleeping, for now?" 

"Hm, good idea." Jo sighs, shuffling until her body is nestled against the backrest. Sliding one arm under her own head, she folds the other around Yaz’s stomach and smile when the younger woman finds her palm, slotting their fingers together. 

Jo's eyelids flutter closed, triggering a flow of restless questions to swirl through her brain. She freezes as one particular memory sinks in. “Hold on. You said dating. Earlier.”

“We were snogging in your kitchen five hours ago. I think we can say we're dating.” 

“Still got it.”

The exact sentence is lost on the police officer, in a hushed whisper against the back of her shoulder. She can still feel Jo’s lips pull back into a grin.

"I can hear you smirk." Yaz complains, moving her elbow back to nudge the blond. "It's annoying." 

Jo has to mold her back against the sofa to avoid the sharp contact to her ribs, frowning when she notices the little space left, with all three of them piled up together. 

"You know I have a perfectly comfortable bed, just down the hallway." Jo remarks, catching the way Yaz squeezes closer as she tries to get away from the edge of the couch. 

"Yeah. But we're doing this second date thing where people people fall asleep on a sofa together. It's cute." 

"We are? Don't I get a vote?" Jo teases. 

"No. And shut up, you're the one who suggested cuddling." Yaz sighs. "Now close your eyes and don't let me fall." 

"Never. I've got you." Jo's arm tightens gently around her middle, Yaz sinking deeper against the blond's front with a sleepy smile. 

"I know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to keep anyone still reading updated: I had a lot of fun with this AU, but I'm pretty sure it's over (unless I get an idea for an actual plot). I'm also happy with how the ending, which doesn't happen very often :-D.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, and apologies for any mistake. I didn’t have much time to edit! I appreciate all sorts of feedbacks :-D


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